


Hurry with the swift current

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [33]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aspersions on Beleg's parentage, M/M, Mild Language, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beleg is foolish, Mablung is furious, both are wet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurry with the swift current

The first thing Beleg heard was loud, ongoing swearing. The first thing Beleg did was roll over and vomit up copious amounts of river water.

“That’s right,” growled a voice above him. “Get it all out, you sodden, worthless, limp rag of an Elf, should have left you to drown, how _stupid_ can you get…”

“Mablung?” managed Beleg, coughing and wiping his mouth.

“Who else would be fool enough to drag your damp arse from that torrent?” Mablung snapped. Beleg blinked muddy water from his eyes until he could make out Mablung’s soaking, furious figure beside him, his black hair hanging in his eyes, his fingers tapping out a dangerous tune on his hip.

“Ah,” said Beleg. “Thank you.” And he bent over to belch out a little more river water.

“Thank you, he says,” said Mablung, addressing the sky. “Not, ‘I am sorry, old friend, for needing you to risk life and limb and your best jerkin to rescue me from an entirely preventable accident.’ _Thank you_ is what I get rather than a hasty and apology ridden explanation for his foolishness. Crossing the river in flood season! Forging on foot! Alone! WITH WHAT I CAN ONLY IMAGINE ARE ROCKS IN YOUR POCKETS – ”

Beleg rolled onto his back and stared at the grey sky for a while, waiting for Mablung to run through his invective.

“ – either that or you’ve gained a considerable amount of weight, I knew you’ve been taking more than your fair share of the tarts at dinner, hah, I think I shall speak to Thingol about getting your rations reduced, a starvation diet of bread and water would serve you right, though you are saturated with enough water to last you until the next age.” Mablung ran out of air and took in a tremendous breath to keep going. “By every teat of Vána, Beleg, what were you thinking?” Mablung crouched down at Beleg’s side, his hair dripping onto Beleg’s face. His voice was still harsh, but his fingers were gentle as he brushed water droplets from Beleg’s cheek. “You are old enough to have fathered the bloody moon and yet you insist on behaving with no more sense than an elfing born last week.”

“Couldn’t have fathered the moon,” said Beleg reasonably. “Him being a Maia and all.”

“YOUR CONTRIBUTION OF PATERNAL EMISSIONS TO THE CONCEPTION OF THE MOON NOTWITHSTANDING – ”

Several damp sparrows took flight as Mablung’s voice rose again and Mablung broke off, apparently choked by his own irritation.

Beleg waited to see if he had more to say, and then glanced around them, raising his head off the ground. Mud clung to his lank strands of hair. “You hauled me quite far from the river bank, for all the rocks in my pockets or tarts in my belly.”

“Didn’t want to worry about flash floods,” said Mablung resentfully. “The waters are unpredictable this time of year.”

Beleg nodded and reached up to touch Mablung’s fingers where they were still stroking over his cheekbone. “Did you manage to grab Belthronding?”

Mablung let out another string of curses interspersed with words like  _priorities, I ask you_  and _no idiot like an archer_ , and Beleg frowned at him. “Was it lost?”

Mablung reached over to the side and waved the heavy bow and the quiver beside it. The fletching of the arrows was quite ruined, but otherwise the bow was none the worse for wear. Beleg smiled in relief and Mablung scowled. “Yes, you are welcome, the damned thing was not lost. But I should have let it drown with you as punishment for your stupidity. Why did you do it, Beleg? Were you bored and fancying a swim? Had the drear winter so gotten to you that you decided to end your life as soon as the waters rose? Were you testing the buoyancy of your trousers?” His thumb pushed Beleg’s hair out of his face, and Beleg rose up on his elbows in the muddy grass. Mablung dropped from a crouch to sitting cross-legged, squelching a bit as he settled and tugging Beleg half across his lap. “Don’t get up just yet.”

Beleg smiled at him. “I am not concussed nor sun struck nor bleeding, my friend, just waterlogged.”

“Well, I need a rest. Stay down here with me. Let me,” Mablung’s voice became quieter, dropping out of its growl, “let me make sure you are in one piece.”

Beleg lay back against Mablung’s strong arm and let his friend press a hand to his chest, as if to verify the heartbeat beneath it.

“Scared me, you did,” murmured Mablung. His fingers rubbed at Beleg’s collarbone, smoothing away a bit of mud. “What were you thinking?”

“A fawn had fallen into the waters,” said Beleg, turning his attention to Mablung in turn and picking a water weed from the laces of Mablung’s tunic, which was hanging open over his chest. “The mother was in such distress, I thought that if I could catch the little creature by one of the strainers – ”

Mablung let out a groan that was half outrage, half distress. “ _Beleg_.”

“I lost it,” said Beleg sadly. “The poor wee thing didn’t stand a chance against those flows, and it was too far out in the current for it to get caught up in the branches by the bank where I could grab it. By the time I was thigh-deep, the current had taken me too.” He squeezed Mablung’s hand. “I thank you, my dear friend, for not allowing me to go the same way as the fawn.”

“You are an everlasting trial upon me,” said Mablung resignedly. “And it was just luck that I had decided to track you for distraction and found you at just the right moment. Don’t you dare do it again, because I swear I shan’t save you. I will just stand on the bank and watch you drown, you old softhearted fool.” But he bent down and pressed his lips to Beleg’s forehead, and Beleg closed his eyes at their warmth.

“I will quite understand if you do,” he murmured.

Mablung shook his head and kissed him roughly on the lips this time, muttering, “As if I could ever resist going after you, Strongbow.”


End file.
